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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661136">Swallowtail</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarayburnu/pseuds/Sarayburnu'>Sarayburnu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Espionage, M/M, Suspense</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:27:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarayburnu/pseuds/Sarayburnu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A case of high stakes espionage unfolds in the scenic oceanside city of Stavanger, Norway. The Major is assigned to lead the investigation at the NATO Joint Warfare Center and an unexpected detour lands Dorian in the middle. Will their unsteady alliance be enough to discover the mole and recover top secret training software before it's too late?</p><p>Readers should be familiar with the Eroica series and the characters therein to properly enjoy this fic. </p><p>Updates pending: Thank you for your patience!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Klaus von dem Eberbach/Dorian Red Gloria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. All That Isn't Bound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky over Hoge Veluwe National Park was ablaze with waning sunlight. Clusters of wispy clouds stretched across the horizon, illuminated by the last golden rays. It was uncharacteristically warm for May and visitors flocked to the verdant grounds. Handfuls of people still queued for entry to the Kröller-Müller museum - The sparkling jewel in the park’s lush, expansive crown. A lone figure strolled out of the museum into the sculpture gardens, stopping briefly to observe the exhibit posters on the building’s facade. His brown hair hung in tousled layers and a pair of sunglasses obscured most of his face. The man wore fitted slacks and a white button down shirt, carrying his suit jacket casually over one shoulder. He’d perused the galleries that entire afternoon, blending seamlessly with the other visitors. Every now and then he paused to admire the sculptures that dotted the grassy clearings.</p>
<p>He stopped less frequently as he walked deeper into the gardens, breezing past the last straggling group of tourists as they hurried to the car park. It was getting dark; It wouldn’t be long before groundskeepers ushered the final visitors out of the grounds. Dusk cast long shadows over the works of art lining the walkway pedestals. The man kept walking until he reached a fork in the path. Satisfied he was not being watched, he took a single step into a nearby thicket of trees. Just as he’d calculated, a groundskeeper drove past a few seconds later, completely unaware of his presence. The man crept noiselessly through the forest until he reached the edge of the lawns, far enough away from any sculptures, security guards or motion sensors. </p>
<p>Hidden away in a clump of ferns was a single briefcase. Once the man reached it, he swept his hand into his hair with a single, fluid motion. Dorian Red, Earl of Gloria shook his golden curls and reached into his jacket pocket, producing a pair of car keys. He checked the spy cam disguised as the key fob before placing carefully in the suitcase with the brown wig. He smiled to himself and admired the flower gardens bathed in purple twilight. First and foremost he was the art thief Eroica, however this trip was all business and regrettably little pleasure. He resolved to visit the park properly next time the luxury presented itself. Suerat, Metzinger, Picasso...most importantly Van Gogh, watched him patiently from their gilded frames. Eroica wouldn’t keep them waiting.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Best Served Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Introducing the Major and his nervous co-investigator, Lieutenant Andrews.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Did you hear the news this morning?” Lieutenant Andrews asked as the coins in his hand clattered into the tip jar. The barista behind the counter gave him warm smile as she turned to prepare his macchiato. Andrews didn’t wait for an answer before pitching into the front page headline; “Famous Léger painting stolen, Kröller-Müller museum reeling.” He lifted his eyes from the newspaper and examined the face of his superior. Major Klaus von dem Eberbach’s face was expressionless as he ordered his own coffee. Black. No nauseatingly sweet syrups or mountains of whipped cream. Andrews felt his ears turn red. He didn’t mind when other officers got straight to the point, but at this rate he had better luck socializing with the gate guards. He didn’t understand why his superiors requisitioned the German officer’s help in the first place. All he knew was that it fell to him to acquaint the newcomer with the base and escort him to briefings. The lieutenant wandered dejectedly to an empty table and sat down. </p>
<p>“Do you have an art museum in Louisville?” The Major asked impassively, settling into the chair across from him. Lieutenant Andrews was an amicable Air Force officer in his thirties. He'd been stationed in Germany before landing his current assignment at the Joint Warfare Center in Stavanger, Norway. Something the Major wished he'd ramble about other than the weather, or his plans for the weekend. </p>
<p>“Yeah!” Andrews beamed. “I’m surprised you remembered where I’m from. Not that I think you’ve got a bad memory or anything it’s just that you’ve only been here a few days and…” The longer Andrews babbled the icier the Major’s expression became. “Yes, sir. We’ve got the KMAC, Kentucky Museum of Contemporary Art. It’s not really my thing but I hear it’s nice. If you gave me the choice sir, I’d go hiking in Mammoth Cave.” Andrews paused and took a few nervous gulps of coffee. The hot liquid seared the roof of his mouth but he did his best to act nonplussed as he waited for the other man to speak.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard of it.” The Major replied curtly. Several minutes of strained silence followed without further comment. Andrews cursed himself for his excited outburst and drank the rest of his coffee in silence. He had a sinking feeling the Major was brought in to put a stop to the recent string of information leaks that targeted the development of technical training software. <i>Great,</i> He thought. <i>My CO doesn’t trust me with my own damn program. Had to hire this brick wall to clean up after me.</i> He was glad to notice the Major’s frown was slightly less severe than it had been before the caffeine. He wore a neat grey suit but his black hair came down to his chin. Wildly out of regs by American standards but Andrews didn’t dare comment. The Major had a strong jaw and piercing green eyes that watched him disapprovingly from behind thick bangs. </p>
<p>“Mammoth Cave is the longest known cave system in the world. It’s like a maze. There’s about 400 miles of charted tunnels.” Lieutenant Andrews added, crumpling a napkin into his empty cup. He couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer. This time the Major looked thoughtful. </p>
<p>“This installation is barely a mile and we still got lost on the way here,” the Major replied flatly. Andrews winced. “If you enjoy navigating complex subterranean cave systems in your spare time, you shouldn’t have any difficulty with our objective. The briefing begins in 20 minutes. We should get going.” </p>
<p>-------------</p>
<p>Lt Andrews sat stiffly beside Major Eberbach in the meeting room, keenly aware of the curious glances thrown their way. His heart dropped when the lights dimmed and a photograph of his workstation stared back at him across the projector screen. <i>Fuck me. It’s definitely about my software.</i> Andrews thought miserably, grateful that the darkness concealed his grimacing.</p>
<p>"Good Morning, gentlemen.” The speaker finished his cigarette and ground the butt into an ashtray on the table. “As as reminder, anything said in this room needs to stay in here. Is that clear?” His gaze swept around the room and rested briefly on the Lt before giving an approving nod to the Major. “We’ve recently discovered that there has been a security breach.” The slide master advanced with a shudder. Projected on the screen was a still image of security camera footage. </p>
<p>“As you can see here, an unidentified person entered Lieutenant Andrews’ office, which is a secured area. Records show that the vault was secured properly, and a physical inspection of the room corroborates the records.” The slide master snapped forward again, showing an image of the vault records in question, then a magnified still of the person in the earlier slide. They appeared to be picking up a folder off of the desk.“While this investigation would typically be handed to the MPs, as we are in a NATO facility with a NATO project all of us in this room have a vested interest in ensuring these documents are returned.” The speaker lit another cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the Colonel ranks on his shoulders. </p>
<p>Lt Andrews steeled his nerves and asked a question. At least the Colonel hadn’t called him out directly on it being HIS office. “Sir, how do we know if the agent is still here? He might’ve already left the country!”</p>
<p>“We have reason to believe that the perpetrator is still here for a number of reasons. What they stole is incomplete. They would need much more of the documentation before they would be able to find it of any use.” A cloud of smoke briefly obscured his features as he exhaled, distorting the image projected on the wall behind him. “They also would have a hard time leaving here unnoticed, since the base is now on lockdown as soon as this was reported. City officials are also on the lookout. However, given the quality of the image, the description of the perp is regrettably vague.”</p>
<p>“With the short timeframe and the value of the information, we have brought Herr Eberbach onto the case to ensure that the situation is resolved. His expertise will be vital to catching the mole.” The colonel ground his second cigarette out as he turned off the slide master and flicked the lights back on. “It’s important that the mole not know that he’s been found out. If he finds out he’s been burned, he is much more likely to be unable to find. We’ll be keeping a close eye on the vault as well as the surveillance recordings.”</p>
<p>-------------</p>
<p>“All this time there was a mole?!” The Lieutenant balked, slamming the door of his Audi. He snatched his cover off his head and tossed it in the back seat with his workbag. “When were they going to fill me in? I thought I was going to prison!” </p>
<p>“Why would they tell you a damn thing when there’s a mole?” The Major snapped. “Get your head out of your ass. Be grateful they didn’t hit you with an Article 92.” The Lieutenant bit his tongue and started the commute to the Major’s hotel. The rest of the drive was silent and Andrews cast the occasional glance at the Major. He was stoic as ever as he flipped through the paperwork the Colonel had given him. It was going to be a very long investigation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The technology described in this fic is mid 80s and prone to inaccuracies. </p>
<p>I can't remember if the Major likes or drinks coffee, I've recently tumbled back into the series after some time and some of the little details escape me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Age of Paranoia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Major Eberbach used his last ounce of restraint to close the door gently behind him. If it was his own office, he’d have slammed the door off its hinges. The silence that followed was bliss. The solitude his hotel room afforded was worth the price; not that he was paying. It wasn’t the first time he’d been exported overseas to solve other operative’s problems. The lieutenant wasn’t a bad kid but the Major swore if he kept playing installation tour guide, he’d fake his own death and swim back to Germany. </p><p>“He talks almost as much as G…” the Major groaned. He locked the dossier and contact roster in the safe before giving a thought to dinner, or whether or not a shower would ease the tension headache that blossomed in the back of his eyes. The restorative power of hot water and full stomach proved effective. An hour later he was in bed, going over the day’s events as he waited for sleep. </p><p>Elephant. No, Mammoth caves. The Lieutenant wouldn’t be so jittery if he drank less coffee. The chairs in the briefing room felt like sitting on concrete blocks. Something about museums. Art museums. A stolen painting- </p><p>The Major shot bolt upright. It was impossible. Art theft was an international phenomenon. Smuggling and money laundering were bound to crop up around institutions showcasing the work of high profile artists, especially that of Van Gogh. Not that he cared enough to know specifics. There was no reason to assume Eroica was involved in the Kröller-Müller theft. Even if he was, he’d be in the Netherlands. He had no way of knowing the Major was in Norway. Major Eberbach lay reluctantly back into bed. He’d phone Z in the morning and ask if there had been any unusual inquiries as to his whereabouts. No one besides his agents and those responsible for his transfer would know where he was currently stationed, and he meant to keep it that way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Reunion and Repudiation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The days following the Kröller-Müller heist passed without incident and Dorian was grateful for the lull in activity. He’d flown out of Rotterdam with his business contact who arranged for the immediate transfer of the Léger painting. Part of him wished the deal had involved a Van Gogh. It would have made things more exciting. He spent the rest of the week evaluating three other galleries and one private collection, each requiring their own carefully orchestrated disguise. After a particularly animated discussion with a Greek antiquities dealer, Dorian realized he’d spilled a few drops of merlot on his sleeve. He was angry at the time but the view from his hotel balcony assuaged his temper. The Netherlands suited him, as the clusters of colorfully painted villas reminded him of a fairytale. Only now he found himself surrounded by an even more impressive sight; Norwegian fjords and the cold expanse of the North Sea. He planned to return to England through Stavanger airport in a few days. Hopefully he’d be spared one of James’ signature tirades if the only unplanned expense he incurred on this mission was the dry cleaning. Which wasn’t going to pick itself up, either. Dorian didn’t run errands on business trips. He usually left the concierge to arrange such things on his behalf, but this morning was different. The sea air was cool and inviting, and a disguise was unnecessary. He’d be one of hundreds of other English tourists this time of year. He made up his mind to take the day off and see what charms Stavanger had to offer. </p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>Major Eberbach understood the practical reason why there wasn’t on site lodging at the Joint Warfare Center but it would have made his life a lot easier if there was. Lieutenant Andrews, brimming with his usual enthusiasm, asked him repeatedly what he planned to do with his weekends. Eberbach rebuffed the question, insisting there was always work to be done. Andrews boasted a rigorous itinerary of hiking excursions, museum tours and restaurants.</p>
<p>“You’re telling me you’re going to sit alone in your hotel room every weekend?” Andrews’ tone was incredulous. “I don’t know how you manage. It’s not every day you get to enjoy life in a foreign country.” </p>
<p>“You Americans.” The Major replied venomously. “I manage just fine.”</p>
<p>“I know. Seems boring, that’s all.” Andrews sighed. He plucked up some courage before looking squarely at the Major. “You don’t have to like me, sir. We just have to work together well enough to get through the next few months. I’m just extending an invitation. No offense intended.” The Major’s eyes narrowed but he saved the searing retort that formed on his tongue. He respected Andrews a fraction more for his last comment. </p>
<p>“Keep that up.” He said. The Lieutenant looked confused for a moment but caught on quickly. </p>
<p>“I promise I only look stupid.” Andrews grinned. “But that doesn’t answer my question, Sir. Do you want to come with me on Saturday? I want to check out this one brewery.” </p>
<p>Their conversation had taken place on Tuesday, and the day had come. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Klaus regretted his decision. He wasn’t normally the type to be cajoled into a night out. In fact, he was entirely immune to the pleas of his subordinates over such matters. It must be all the time spent on those damnable briefing room chairs that frayed his nerves enough to be swayed. Or perhaps it was homesickness - there was a slim chance the Norwegians had a tolerable substitute for a biergarten. He slammed the door on his way out.</p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>It was quarter past three by the time Dorian arrived downtown. He’d taken his time getting dressed and to his dismay, found himself in the middle of rush hour traffic. The cab let him off on the street and he walked with no particular destination. He admired the friendly, urban ambiance of the city. It wasn’t frantic and bustling like London. Dorian took his time, ducking into small shops and cafés that caught his eye. </p>
<p>It wasn’t long before the sun began to set. Dorian wondered absently when he’d become so nocturnal. He found dinner at a restaurant facing the pier and watched the tourists carefully, wine glass in hand. If there was something worth seeing, it was infinitely better without the throngs of camera-toting foreigners. He tipped his server generously and set out in earnest once he calculated the direction the bulk of the tourists came from. A short walk from the harbor, Dorian was delighted to lay eyes on the unmistakable silhouette of a Gothic cathedral. The avenue leading up to it was nearly deserted as locals and tourists alike meandered home. It was like a painting; A true Cathedral, standing nobly against the wistful ocean sky. A mourning dove cooed softly in the trees overhead. Dorian felt a familiar thrill prick his fingertips. Was the inside of the Cathedral equally well preserved and adorned as the outside? </p>
<p>He traced the carved stone coils with his eyes like he would a lover. The stonework was magnificent despite its age, which Dorian noted from the informational plaque. Originally a 12th century Romanesque structure, it had obtained its Gothic additions after a fire some years later. Dorian was so absorbed by the shimmering stained glass that he failed to hear heavy footsteps behind him.</p>
<p>------------</p>
<p>“I liked the beer at Spangdahlem better.” Lieutenant Andrews yawned. </p>
<p>“Damn right you did.” The Major grumbled, kicking aside a few pebbles as the pair walked down a cobbled side street. The restaurant the Lieutenant scoped out lived up to expectations. While Eberbach was not the type to overindulge, he let the bartender refill his glass as many times as was necessary to avoid answering his companion’s intrusive questions. He let Andrews, whose first name he discovered was Jack (Or was it John?) chatter enough for the two of them. He learned that Jack attended the Air Force Academy and that his father had been a pilot. During their long, mostly one-sided talk, the Major wondered if the Lieutenant was the way he was due to his father’s influence. If so, he could relate. </p>
<p>“My girlfriend hates it when I tell her what I’ve been up to. Hell, I don’t blame her! I’d hate to be stuck in Kentucky my whole life.” Andrews laughed. He’d asked Klaus whether or not he had a girlfriend twice now. The Major grit his teeth in preparation for the third time but it didn’t come. “You know, you should get a dog. Maybe then you won’t be so lonely. It’d go running with you for sure.” </p>
<p>“I’m not lonely, I’m focused. There’s a difference!” The Major snapped. He wished fervently that he’d rented a car so he could drive himself home. Why did Jack assume he was lonely? All he wanted was to find a taxi so he could rid himself of the nuisance the American had become. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Why now of all times had he run out of cigarettes? Klaus forced himself to envision a shooting range. Eliminating the first social engagement meant he had a good reason to repel future invitations. Dispatch tasks like targets. Sooner or later there won’t be anything left to annoy you, he thought.</p>
<p>As the pair rounded the corner they found themselves face to face with a Cathedral. They’d passed it on their way down to the pier and the Major was immensely relieved. A few more blocks and they’d find a taxi and he’d be free. Klaus assumed the handful of strangers hanging around were tourists, judging by the way they walked without watching where they were going, eyes fixed on the building. One figure stood out to him and for a moment he couldn’t determine why. The man was tall, slender even, and had a head of curly blonde hair. The Major shook his head. He was already in a bad mood from babysitting the Lieutenant who was now thoroughly drunk. His mind was looking for things to latch on to in his frustration. Eroica was certainly off doing whatever it was thieves did. He was probably at some clandestine gala, ogling at the stupid painting. The Major felt an uneasy pit form in his stomach as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The figure had a striking resemblance to the meddlesome fop he tried so desperately to avoid. </p>
<p>“Why are we stopping? Didn’t we come from the other direction?” Jack Andrews asked, craning his head to see past the Major.</p>
<p>“Stay here and sober up a little.” Major Eberbach grunted, shoving Andrews down onto a nearby park bench. He didn’t wait for a reaction and stalked over to the mystery figure. Klaus felt his blood boil as the man came into view. It couldn’t be Eroica…but if it was, he was going to strangle him.</p>
<p>Dorian was annoyed by the sudden disturbance. Judging by the proximity of the footsteps it was another onlooker, and to be fair he was still standing in front of the informational plaque. Dorian stepped aside, only the stranger wasn’t moving.</p>
<p>“Do you mind?” Dorian muttered. He kept his gaze fixed on the Cathedral, watching out of the corner of his eye for any sudden movements. If he was being robbed or pickpocketed, it wasn’t going to end well for the person accosting him. He barely had time to catch himself as a hand grasped his shoulder like a vice. </p>
<p>“Do <b><i>you?</i></b>” A furious voice hissed, wrenching him around. Before he could pull free, his breath caught in his throat.</p>
<p>“Major?! What on earth are you doing here?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was the Major finally assigned to put an end to Eroica? A delightful predicament to be sure but an impossible one. NATO had no business in the black market. Unless the painting belonged to someone important in a roundabout fashion, Dorian could see no reason for the Major to interfere with his machinations. He was stunned that the man looming over him was in fact the Major. He tried to recall how many glasses of wine he’d had with dinner, but the pain from the death grip made it hard to remember. </p>
<p>“You are a fucking idiot but don’t play the fool.” </p>
<p>“You torture me. Not even a ‘Hello’?” The Major shook Dorian’s arm with such vigor he thought his shoulder was going to pop out of its socket.  “Fine! If it makes you feel any better I’m leaving in two days. You look beautiful when you’re angry.” Dorian gave Klaus his best roguish smile, notwithstanding the risk he took keeping his teeth in his head. He’d be damned if he let the Major go without a spar.</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Eberbach said acidly, shoving Dorian away. </p>
<p>“Do you two know each other?” A voice behind them asked. The Major and Dorian spun around to see Lt Andrews watching them, eyes darting nervously  between the two. Dorian sprang at the opportunity.</p>
<p>“Is this a new agent of yours, Major? I didn’t know you took Americans. If I’d known you were taking international applications, I would have called.” </p>
<p>“I told you to shut up. Get out of here before I strangle you.” </p>
<p>“Are you unarmed? That’s not like you. You usually threaten to shoot me. Are you unwell, my dear Major?” </p>
<p>Lieutenant Andrews watched the two owlishly. The Major’s face was terrifying to behold and he wondered how the blonde could stand within striking range. Before Andrews could speak, Klaus was storming away down the street. He started after him only to be stopped by a light hand on his shoulder. He turned to face the stranger the Major nearly throttled. He was handsome in an elegant way and coils of blonde hair framed his face like a cloud.</p>
<p>“Call me Dorian. Don’t look so pale, he’s always like that. Here, give him this. If he asks, that is.” Dorian offered Andrews a slip of paper with his hotel address, which the other man fumbled with before stuffing it into his wallet. Jack nodded dumbly and cast a nervous glance behind him at the aforementioned Major. He was standing at the bottom of the road, practically stalking the side street that was their exit. Andrews was grateful he wasn’t left behind but feared for his own wellbeing the longer he remained in Dorian’s presence. He decided the best course of action was to sprint for the pier, stumble into a taxi and forget any of this ever happened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was tricky to write. I was eager to introduce the key characters to one another while maintaining an atmosphere of suspense and tension. Hopefully it came across that way! </p>
<p>Spangdahlem is an Air Force installation in Germany.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Alliance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 5 was difficult for me! Between work and other outside commitments, I only had spare minutes to work on it this week. Despite the hurdles, I hope it entertains. Feel free to comment any glaring grammatical or punctuation mistakes other than my inane use of commas. </p>
<p>Andrews' name was originally going to be Valentine, so if that slips in despite my best efforts, let me know and I'll fix it. </p>
<p>My beta reader and I discussed some changes last week that I really liked at the time but we both failed to write them down so we forgot them. I'll probably go back and edit this chapter once the fic is totally done and see if I can't polish it up from there.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monday morning at the Joint Warfare Center was as placid as any other. Soldiers and contract workers streamed into the coffee shop, mentally preparing for their respective workdays. The young woman behind the counter looked frazzled as she manned the cash register and barked orders to the trainee behind her. Lt Andrews was one of the men waiting in line, his face haggard as if he’d just gotten off a red eye. That first cup of coffee would be the only thing that kept him afloat in the sea of paperwork waiting for him. His first week with the Major had been uneventful which explained why the weekend took a turn for the unexpected. </p>
<p>He remembered how angry the Major had been when he caught sight of Dorian. He looked like he was about to rip the other man’s arm off, but that didn’t explain how they knew one another, or the nature of their relationship. Andrews followed the line as it snaked through the shop and noticed the chaos unfolding behind the counter. The regular barista must have the day off. He regretted never getting her name despite seeing her nearly every day. She always kept her brown hair braided behind her ear and wore a birthstone ring on her right hand. He knew this because he’d overheard other men discuss whether or not it was an engagement ring. He’d laughed at the idea of marrying the barista on a military installation, but she did make the best coffee. Andrews couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to Saturday night. What did the Major think of him now?  </p>
<p>“A German and an Englishman get into fistfight in Norway. Sounds like a damn joke.” the hapless Lt mumbled. The barista raised her eyebrow and asked him for his order the second time. </p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p>Coffee in hand, Andrews shuffled into his office and switched on the light. He went to place his drink on the coaster, only to find it wasn’t there. He froze. Someone had been in his office over the weekend. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for further evidence that his belongings had been moved without his knowledge. He wasn’t the neatest officer in the Air Force but he did his best to maintain a functional workstation. The coaster left a ring of coffee stains on the left side of the desk where it should have been. Andrews guessed it was moved to gain access to the side panel of his computer. He backed out slowly and locked the door, then raced to find Major Eberbach. </p>
<p>Lieutenant Andrews looked pale as he exited the Colonel’s office, followed by the Major. They walked in silence back to Andrews’ office and waited outside the door. A French Sous-Lieutenant, Caroline Moreau, caught the pair as she left the room, fingerprint kit clasped firmly in her gloved hands. </p>
<p>“Good Morning, Lt Andrews, Major Eberbach.” She smiled politely and patted the kit with approval. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. You look exhausted, though. Time for a coffee?” She nodded her head sympathetically in Andrews’ direction before joining the rest of her team. He wanted to ask if they’d found anything, but classified didn’t begin to cover how well guarded that information would be. </p>
<p>“That was Lt Moreau. She’s from a French town near Germany…Als-something. you’d know it if she told you. You two should chat sometime.” Andrews nudged.</p>
<p>“Alsace-Lorainne. Judging by her accent she’s from Strasbourg.” The Major returned the gesture with a stronger jab. </p>
<p>The office had been thoroughly examined but Andrews’ belongings were returned to their rightful places. His coffee was still somewhat warm. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. </p>
<p>“Eugh. I forgot the regular barista wasn’t in this morning. Just my luck.” Andrews sighed, utterly defeated. “This mole has to be a well trained special operations professional to sneak in and out of my office like that. We don’t know how they got their hands on a uniform, or the entry codes. I hate to say it, but it’s probably one of my guys.” The bitter tang of burnt coffee added to the bad taste in the Lieutenant’s mouth. “We’ve been on lockdown since last week Tuesday. No new faces. Folks incoming to the base have to wait around for the investigation to conclude before they can integrate.” Andrews sat in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk.</p>
<p>“Maybe we can conscript one of the security workers. They can stakeout the building or establish a route that puts them in a position to monitor my office.” The Major shook his head but didn’t answer. Andrews didn’t stop talking as he followed the building layout in his mind’s eye. If only he’d stayed on site over the weekend instead of galavanting around Stavanger with the American lout. It would be unwise to divulge any information to Andrews’ team in case the mole had an accomplice. They needed someone with the same skillset in order to counteract the mole’s movements. Someone versed in infiltration and disguise. Someone like -</p>
<p>“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, who was that guy we saw on Saturday?” </p>
<p>The Major’s concentration shattered. So much for developing a patrol route. He turned and glared daggers at the Lieutenant, who raised his hands in defense. </p>
<p>“Why? Are you bored? Too much work for one day?” Eberbach growled. </p>
<p>“It was just a question. For a minute I thought I’d be bailing you out of jail for disorderly conduct.” Andrews replied. The Major didn’t answer. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his cigarettes. </p>
<p>“Hey, this is my office. I don’t smoke, remember?” </p>
<p>“This is my investigation. You’ll live.” The Major lit the cigarette and took a long drag. They were getting nowhere. He recoiled at the thought his subconscious suggested. What good would Eroica be in a situation like this? He’d made the connection out of habit. He was connecting perfectly logical dots. There was nothing more to think about.</p>
<p>“He gave me this…” Andrews offered the Major the slip of paper and watched with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.</p>
<p>“Who cares. Throw it away.” The Major didn’t take the paper at first but the Lieutenant held the paper aloft in his raised hand. The Major snatched it and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. Andrews was fascinated. So this is what made the stone-faced German tick. The Major took a second to read the paper then stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. </p>
<p>----------------------</p>
<p>Dorian sent the majority of his luggage ahead of him, not deigning to lug anything heavier than a single suitcase around the airport. He glanced at his watch. He had 30 minutes before his cab arrived, which he decided to spend on the balcony. He didn’t bother bolting the door and left it ajar for the hotel staff. He’d make himself scarce before they shuffled in to perform their cleaning. </p>
<p>He could still feel the Major’s hand on his arm. He was lucky to escape with all his teeth and no broken bones. Dorian noticed the way the NATO officer’s hand clenched into a fist at the sight of him. His eyes flashed with rage when he spoke. Dorian wondered wistfully if the Major really did hate him. It didn’t help that their encounters were so entertaining. The Major would declare his disgust and Dorian would proclaim his affections, each talking past one another like ships in the night. It was enough of a thrill to find him by chance, but something about Saturday night felt like destiny. It was all so romantic. Dorian sighed and watched as flocks of barn swallows dove in midair over the rooftops. He caught sight of a black cat in an apartment window across and street, transfixed by the birds. Their bright orange bellies and ribboned tail feathers seemed to cry, “Chase me, I dare you.”</p>
<p>He almost missed the sound of the door closing behind him. Dorian spun around and positioned himself behind the balcony table. Thieves didn’t live long enough to take second chances, and looking like a bewildered fool in front of the cleaning staff was a risk he was willing to take.</p>
<p>“I haven’t even threatened you yet.” Major Eberbach's voice rang out. Dorian stood agape, not sure if he was hallucinating. Major Eberbach stood awkwardly in the doorway, his expression dour as always. “Don’t ask me why I’m here. You owe me a favor and I’m collecting.” He ordered, holding up a hand to silence the other man. </p>
<p>“It’s good to see you too, Major. I’m thrilled your friend delivered my message but I’m going to need you to elaborate. I owe you a favor?”</p>
<p>“For not having you arrested on the spot last Saturday.” </p>
<p>“Really, Major? If you’re not going to ask nicely or tell me what it is you expect of me, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I have a flight to catch.” Dorian grasped the handle of his suitcase purposefully and started for the door, blue eyes watching the Major inquisitively. A cluster of swallows sailed in the updraft behind him. </p>
<p>The Major closed the distance between them with a single stride. His broad shouldered frame was enough to keep the other man from leaving the balcony. </p>
<p>“Don’t think for a second I won’t throw you over the side!” The Major barked, reaching out to grasp the thief as he’d done before. Dorian dodged expertly, slipping through the doorframe. </p>
<p>“Oh I believe you!” Dorian laughed. “But I’ll stay right where you want me.” His eyes flashed with mischievous delight as he made himself comfortable in an armchair. The Major reentered the hotel room with a huff and drew a small envelope from his coat pocket, which he threw onto the coffee table. </p>
<p>“There’s been a breach of intelligence at a NATO facility. The American, Lieutenant Andrews, could be framed or he could be involved. It’s unclear. Their security cameras aren’t worth shit. The mole knows every face in the facility, their duties, schedules and daily habits. I need you to monitor the site disguised as contract security. If the base didn’t freeze incoming assignments I could conscript some other fool for the job. I need someone outside the local chain of command. Did you get all of that?” </p>
<p>The earl of Gloria hung on every word, paying special attention to the way the Major’s hands moved as he lit himself a cigarette. </p>
<p>“Is that his name? Good to know.”</p>
<p>The Major stared back impassively. There was a limit to how far the he would take the bait. It dawned on Dorian that the NATO operative must genuinely need his help. If he didn’t, the conversation that passed between them would only exist in his wildest dreams. The impish gleam in his eyes faded and his composure became serious.</p>
<p>“Who grants me access to base and to whom do I report my findings? You’re well aware my talents are most effective in time sensitive situations. You make it sound like I’ll be clocking in for a shift. Do I have to wear a uniform?” There was a note of genuine terror in his voice at the prospect. </p>
<p>"That can be arranged.” The Major mocked, grinding the spent cigarette into the ashtray. “You will report to me, or Lieutenant Andrews, exclusively.” </p>
<p>“That will work.” </p>
<p>“Ja. It will.” </p>
<p>The Major, satisfied with the thief’s cooperation, added a few more notes to the dossier before excusing himself from the room. Dorian’s ears braced for the inevitable slam of the door but the Major stepped out and left the it ajar. The only indication he’d been there at all was the faint smell of his cigarette smoke. Dorian would have kept him there for eternity if he could, fencing with words and insults, as was their custom. He needed to call Bonham and inform him of the change of plans. The earful he was in for when he returned would be worth the delay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Trying to be all artsy with visual metaphor and whatnot. Go easy on me! </p>
<p>I don't rightly know if there are barn swallows in Norway. I don't imagine there wouldn't be, but if there happen to be any bird enthusiasts reading this, feel free to roast me over it then offer a workable alternative. Thanks in advance!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This work will contain references to real world locations that have been approximated by online research and conjecture. Geographical inaccuracies result from lack of personal experience in these places. All original characters featured in this work are fictional and any correlation between them and real people is entirely coincidental.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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